February 13, 2007
So Pumped, So Stranded
I. Am. Exhausted. I don't know how Billi does it. If I were her, I would be dead.
The Girl Child went to the hospital today to have her tonsils and adnoids taken out and some tubes put in her ears. She'll be much healthier in the long run, but right now, she looks like someone beat the crap outta her. I feel so bad for her, I'm not even going to eat any of the ice cream Billi bought for her.
Anyhoo, guess who volunteered to take care of Boy Child and The Spare today? Me. Spare is, actually, the most happy-go-lucky baby there ever was, and with the invention of Legos Star Wars for Xbox, Boy Child practically babysits himself! Right?
Right?
So how come it's only 3:30, and every muscle on my body is screaming in pain??? Seriously, my left arm is so pumped right now. Spare only likes to be on my left shoulder. God forbid I should switch arms. Or sit. Or stop bouncing.
Anyhoo, here I am in Practically Wisconsin, with an hour's worth of Illinois tollway between me and home. Which, in my unemployed state, shouldn't be a problem, despite the five to thirteen inches of snow that's currently falling. I have my toothbrush with me, and I can always borrow some of Billi's underwear (our asses are similar enough).
Except that... I'm not exactly unemployed at the moment. Tomorrow, I start a part time temp job five minutes from my house. Pretty sweet, huh? Sure, it'd be nicer if it were permanant, but at least I'll be bringing home some bacon while I look for the pig. Or something.
Anyhoo, I'm scheduled to be there at 9:30 tomorrow morning. So I HAVE to leave here tonight, no matter what. Dammit.
Of course, I should be grateful I have a job to go to. Grateful that my friend, K, is basically Assistant to God at this organization. Doesn't hurt to have God's work-wife hand deliver one's resume to the H.R. department, no siree-bob!
This storm is just poor timing is all. Wish me luck, my darlings! Thank God I have 244 songs on my iPod!
Comments
Bet you're right-handed. My son has claimed my left hip as his personal roost (and he's about 26lbs these days)-- especially if I'm in the kitchen, he comes running up to me, arms outstretched, grinning "Up! Up!".
Heaven forbid Daddy or Big Sister offer to hold him so he can still see what's going on. He becomes leech-boy, kicking and screaming as they gently coax him off me, my left arm numb from holding him.
I feel your pain.
And good luck with the snow. We're getting more too. I believe that puts us in week seven? eight? of snow? I'm sick of it!
Posted by: Celtic Elff at February 13, 2007 04:41 PM
LUCK!!
Posted by: Homidus Corax Celticus at February 13, 2007 10:29 PM
Hope you arrived safetly, how'd the new job go?
Posted by: Hope at February 15, 2007 12:15 PM